Searching

The magic carpet comes undone,
Red strings unravel, fly everywhere,
High winds downtown.

My lucky-strikes show up.
I leave my blanket at home.

Nothing I long to keep ever stays.

We squander these precious particles,
try to find ourselves and each other.

At the flea market I buy nothing,
search in vain for my father’s pen.

Nothing sticks to me like loss, glossy
on the other side.